


Cracks In My Soul (Part 1 Short Version)

by TT_Angst_Queen



Series: The Cracks in My Soul [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Steve Rogers, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Depression, Gay Bucky Barnes, Mentions of the Holocaust, Not Wanda Friendly, Possession, Sort Of, Steve Has Issues, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, The Avengers (2012) Compliant, The Tesseract (Marvel), sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 21:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16183124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT_Angst_Queen
Summary: In which the reason behind Steve's behavior is explained.





	Cracks In My Soul (Part 1 Short Version)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Menatiera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menatiera/gifts).



> No opinions on the holocaust or the comparison is my opinion, just Steve's, and what I think his thoughts would be. This is not my thoughts, but THE CHARACTERS. 
> 
> This is a rough outline of a future fic that I am writing, and will be written longer and in more full depth. I will be writing the whole thing out first, so It will be quite awhile before the full version is posted.
> 
> Also I have disabled Anonymous commenting, because of a completely un-called for review from some guest named "aspect". I will not be told how to write my fic.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“When I went down, the world was at war. I woke up, and they said we won._

 

_They never said what we lost.”_

 

Coming out of the ice, Steve had been thrown into a world that had shaken and confused him. He had tried to grasp on to his fading reality, trying to hold onto what he was told was no the far away past.  He had been told he had slept for seventy years and that everyone he knew was dead, or in a nursing home.

 

Steve had woken up fearing he was in HYDRA’s grasp, fearing he had been captured. His heart had pounded and his heart had raced. He had feared that HYDRA was going to turn him into the killer that Skull had hinted he wanted Steve to be. He had ran, only to burst into a world full of sight and sound and color that was **_toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoobrighttooloudtoomuchtoomuchTOOMUCH_ ** and then been told he was seventy years into the future.

 

Steve was certain this was where the crack in his mind that had been made with Bucky’s death split even further to fester and rot.

He had come out of one war only to dive into another.

 

SHIELD had given him a therapist, but after one session when the therapist had tried to tell him that Steve had maybe been exaggerating how bad HYDRA really was in the War, he never went back. Nobody commented on it. Nobody even mentioned it. Fury didn’t try to get him to return.

 

So when Loki had come crashing into New York with his army of aliens and his damn blue staff that reminded him far too much of something he had thought he had escaped, those cracks grew steadily bigger. He found himself snapping at Stark, who he _knew_ didn’t deserve any of the things he said. He couldn’t stop himself, though, the anger in him, at Stark, seemed almost unnatural, and those cracks were festering and throbbing more than normal, a pulsing pain that warped his anger and made him snap at someone who he had told himself he would befriend, if only to see if the son was better than the father never was.

 

He could tell Tony was a good person. He could tell that the genius wore a mas much like the one that Bucky had kept up so that he wouldn’t be caught when he went out to queer bars. Bucky had to keep up a mask much like the one Tony kept up in order to fool the people around him into thinking he was a lady’s man; when in fact, it was the opposite. Bucky found no attraction to any sort of woman, and the one time Steve had brought up the topic, Bucky had screwed up his face in disgust and told him in no uncertain terms that he would never sleep with a woman.

 

Steve himself kept up a mask, even a small one. He had never felt sexual attraction to anyone, really. He was repulsed, to be honest, by the thought of having sex with anyone, and back before the War, and during, he had thought he was broken.

 

Now, he had a word for it.

 

He was asexual.

 

So he understood Stark’s mask.  He knew that he should take it with a grain of salt and make the effort to look behind the cocky, arrogant exterior and see what was most like a generous, sweet and caring man underneath, but Steve couldn’t help himself from getting lost in that blue haze of anger every time the Billionaire spoke, and it caused a rift between them that just made everything worse.

 

So after saving New York, SHIELD sent him on mission after mission, that blue haze filling him from time to time, that crack getting slowly wider as it fed off his emotions and from the violence that was required from them.

 

When he discovered Bucky was alive… the blue haze went wild, and he went through the events in a blue-tinged fog, and he felt the crack grow just that much bigger, just that much wider, the blue rot and featuring haze putting blinders over every action, every movement, every word.

 

He should have realized then, that something was horribly, horribly wrong with him.

 

But he ignored the trepidation, he ignored it.

  


Then they stormed that castle, to get that damn staff again.

 

The cracks that had grown and festered were throbbing with proximity to the golden spear, and when that witch messed with his mind-

 

Suddenly, Steve felt the cracks widen into a gaping wound, and whatever small parts that were left of _Steve Rogers_ was sucked into the blackness and left an empty shell behind.

 

A shell that wasn’t empty for long.

 

Steve had known, in the corner of his brain, that he hadn’t been _Steve_ in awhile. That he hadn’t been _Steve_ completely since he crashed into the ice. But every time he had even examined the thought, it slipped away in a blue haze that just… made him forget that he had something wrong with him in the first place.

 

Now, as he watched through his own eyes as his body did things, said things, that made him want to scream and kick and yell, he knew that he really should have gotten help. He should have been strong enough to push past the Blue haze and ignore the voice that whispered to him and fed him lies, fed his anger and his trauma.

 

He never realized, until he was trapped in his own mind, just how traumatized he really was. His mind was almost in tatters; shreds of thoughts and hopes and dreams all covered with layer upon layer of sickening blue and red haze.  He wanted to fix his brain, his mind, his soul. But every time he reached to try and pull the blue and red away, it would dig its claws in and get stronger.

 

Steve felt himself slowly going mad as he watched his body walk around and act just like the bullies he always tried to fight. He found himself horrified at the words he had said to Stark, a the blame that was heaped onto the blameless man. He watched as his body and the rest of the team watched almost passively as Thor lifted Tony- human, breakable Tony- up in the air by his throat, wanting to scream at the rest of the team as they did nothing but watch as Tony spluttered in the thunder gods grip and as he dropped him like trash. Steve wanted to scream  as his body comforted and worked with Wanda Maximoff, comparing Steve to her, and he wanted to vomit at the fact that the words has passed his lips. He wanted to throw up as his body defended the woman - not a child, she was almost his biological age, no matter what anyone said- who messed with all their minds, who still messed with his, and- he suspected, he hoped- with the rest of the teams.

 

Wanda volunteered to be experimented on, not for her country, but for revenge on a man that never deserved her ire in the first place.

 

Even if it had been Tony’s fault, Wanda still had no right to do what she had done. Steve couldn’t understand why nobody else could see that. He found himself utterly confused on why Clint, of all people, was so strongly defending the woman that messed with his mind. Steve knew the man still had nightmares about Loki, about the mind magic the god used on him. Of all people, Steve expected Clint to be completely against Wanda.

 

Hence, him believing and hoping that She had his team under her control.

 

He didn’t want to believe his friends would be this cruel.  

 

He didn’t want to believe that he had no hope for rescue.

 

Then… The Accords.

 

Steve… didn’t exactly agree with them. From what he could see through his trapped mind. He didn’t think that the government having control of a group of people to the point where their every move would be monitored, that children would have to be registered, that people who wanted to just live in peace would be watched and tracked and monitored within an inch of their life. It wasn’t right.

 

It reminded him far too much of the concentration camps full of people with tattoos on their arms, marked and stamped like livestock, for the rest of their lives, carrying a reminder that would stay with them until the day they died.

 

It reminded him of that man who thought a group of people needed to rounded up and corralled like livestock, slaughtered when their usefulness wore out.

 

But he knew that documents could change. He _knew_  that Tony could change the document, he knew that Tony _would_ change the document.

 

Steve knew, that _some_ accountability was needed, yes. They couldn’t continue to be vigilantes. They did need to answer to someone.

 

But those super humans that just wanted to be left alone?  The ones that, if they saw something they could stop, like a mugging, happen in front of their eyes; that helping with that could get them arrested, for nothing more than helping someone, with no  damage to anyone else, was not something that Steve agreed with.

 

_But Steve knew that tony could- would- change that._

 

But he watched as his body fought Tony every step of the way. He watched as his body protected the Witch that trapped his mind, and he watched as his body was involved in trapping Bucky and leading the authorities to him. As Bucky, who even Steve could tell wasn’t completely Bucky, was more Winter Soldier then his best friend, fought his way out like a cornered animal.

 

Steve watched in horror as Bucky was arrested and forced to be the Winter Soldier again.

 

He watched in horror as his friends divided into two groups and fought each other.

 

He watched in mental tears as Tony watched his parents get murdered by HYDRA’s weapon.

 

He watched, in agony, as his body fought Tony in malice and as Bucky defended himself in fear.

 

He watched his body raised the Shield, HIS shield; the thing that represented protection, that represented freedom. He watched as his body swung it down, and Steve-

 

He grasped just enough control, by the skin of his teeth, to aim for the chest instead of the neck, and add less for then he was able.

 

He knew, as his body picked up Bucky- and god, his friend had lost his arm, _again_ , and it was all his fault- and walked away as he screamed inside his mind not to leave the injured and traumatized inventor behind.

 

Steve knew that the arc reactor was something Tony still feared being broken, and he regretted that he had done that to his friend, reopen old wounds. But it was far better then being dead.

 

Steve’s body led Bucky to Wakanda, and then when they got there…

 

After Bucky had been healed and patched up and his arm capped off, Bucky led Steve to a room, and motioned for Steve to go first.

 

Steve saw it for what it was, and felt a bust of hope.

 

But the force controlling him didn’t know Bucky as well, didn’t know his tells, and, as such, was surprised when a purple tinted force-field sprung up from the doorway.

 

The force tried to act scared, unsure, but Bucky just stared at him steadily, as T’Challa and Shuri appeared at Bucky’s side.

 

“You’re not Stevie,” Bucky growled, glaring at the force occupying Steve’s body.

 

“Bucky-”

 

“Who the hell are you?”

 

His body slowly smirked.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rough outline of a future fic that I am writing, and will be written longer and in more full depth. I will be writing the whole thing out first, so It will be quite awhile before the full version is posted.
> 
> Also I have disabled Anonymous commenting, because of a completely un-called for review from some guest named "aspect". I will not be told how to write my fic.
> 
> Are you 18+ and Want to join in a group dedicated to Bucky Appreciation? Join my Server on Discord, here: 
> 
> https://discord.gg/h2zTtzT
> 
> Hope to see you soon!


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